


Just a snack

by Domino_2014



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 04:49:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2096364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Domino_2014/pseuds/Domino_2014
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hannibal returns home after a kill gone wrong, Alana is there to lift his spirits up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a snack

##  Just a snack

 

~*~

 

It must’ve been a difficult one this time, Alana realizes, when she opens the door and sees Hannibal standing there with bloody claw-marks across his forehead and bloodstains all over his clothes.

 

“Oh God, Hannibal,”

 

She says as she takes his arm and draws him into her house, before anyone can see him. A good looking, bloodied man, dressed in a plastic onesie looking disturbingly like a life size condom, knocking at her door will surely get her gossipy neighbors in a tizzy.

 

He lets her lead him into the kitchen.

 

“I’ll live,”

 

He says, his tone flat and lifeless, and that increases Alana’s unease. He’s usually fairly happy after a kill, smug and pleased with his success, holding up his medical box full of meat, no matter how difficult it may prove to be. If he’s this down and with no red medical box, it must mean the meal got away. After taking a good look at him.

 

“Hannibal? What happened?”

 

She pushes him gently into a chair, and puts a hand on his cheek.

 

“I killed him.”

 

He says causing her to let out a breath, dull maroon eyes looking up into hers.

 

“Two people actually. But not before they killed a four-year old boy they were raping”

 

Alana barely held back a gasp. He’d probably stop talking if she said anything though, so she just leaned in to hug him, and waited until he continued.

 

“Two well respected medical officers and they were screwing that boy as if it was an Olympic sport"

 

Hannibal finally continued in that same remote voice his accent thicker that ever and full of emotion.

 

"I killed them fast when I saw the boy was covered in blood but..."

 

When he said nothing more, Alana squeezed him a bit tighter. The absence of meat now making sense.

 

“It’s not your fault. You did your best”

 

She reminded him. She searches for a way to ease his guilt and pain.

 

“It happens sometimes. You can’t save them all"

 

She whispered knowing she was serving him platitudes he had heard before. Hannibal closes his eyes and shakes his head. Alana closed her eyes looking for the right words.

 

"Did you avenge the boy?"

 

Hannibal brought himself back from the darkness inside him to respond to her with a smile that would send normal people running away screaming

 

"They look as if wild dogs chewed and spat them out"

“Good,”

 

She said in a tone that bellied she wasn't one of those people.

 

“Now stop beating yourself up – the cover-up already did a marvelous job of that – and let’s get the suit and your shirt off.”

 

That earned her a ghost of a smirk from him. Progress.

 

“Yes, doctor,”

 

He obeyed and stripped to his waist. Alana carefully examined each of his wounds. Other than the forehead scratches, which are messy but not all that deep, there’s lots of bruises and abrasions on his arms and chest, and several cuts on his left shoulder. Two or three of those are deep enough to require stitches and applied them quickly, enjoying taking care of him after a kill.

 

“Careful, Lana. Try not to spoil my good looks”

 

Hannibal joked. He was obviously feeling better, and that made her feel better, too. She snorted and made quick work of cleaning up.

 

“Next you’ll be complaining that you ‘broke a nail’ on a kill”

 

She commented with mock disdain.

 

“Why, you little-“

 

Hannibal could move so fast when he wanted to. In seconds, she found herself seated on the kitchen table, and Hannibal was kissing her enthusiastically. Alana knew that this orgasm would be in silent mourning for the little boy. The rest would be for them.

 

Hannibal kissed her deep and hard, tongue slipping all over. She dug her nails lightly into his bare back, shivering with pleasure. She loved it when he got passionate and forceful like this.

 

He broke the kiss and pressed that sinful mouth to her throat, right on her pulse point.

 

“I’m all man, baby. Trust me,”

 

He growled, the words muffled against her throat. Grinning, she reaches down and cups him through the ridiculous clear suit.

 

“I never had any doubts, Hannibal,”

 

She laughed squeezing him gently. He groans and shoves his hips violently forward into her hand, the warm bulge filling her palm, and then moves his mouth to her collarbone, lightly biting.

 

That’s when his stomach gurgles loud enough that they break apart, Alana giggling and Hannibal huffing in annoyance.

 

“I'm sorry my dear"

 

He apologized for being hungry but didn't ask permission before he started rummaging through her fridge. Alana shook her head amused at him. Sometimes her cannibal could be extremely adorable.

 

She was busy admiring the smooth, muscled planes of his back and the tight curve of his ass in his dress pants and jumped as he spoke without looking at her.

 

“Take your clothes off.”

“What? Here?”

“Mhm”

 

Alana bit her lip for a moment regretting the large windows of her kitchen but was intrigued enough to start unbuttoning her shirt. Sex with Hannibal was too good to pass up and she's always up for adding another naughty sex-game to their repertoire.

 

“Everything”

 

He told her the moment her bra joined her shirt on a chair. He still hadn't turned around, nor had he looked up at her reflexion in the glass yet he knew when she had followed his direction.

 

“And turn around”

 

Alana bit her lip again but turned around and shed the rest of her clothes, listening to the sounds Hannibal’s making. It sounded like he was chopping something up on the cutting board. There were also a few other noises. Clunks, like bottles being moved and put down. What was he up to?

 

“Good,”

 

He says from behind her. More noise as he puts whatever he’s carrying on the other end of the table.

 

“Now, sit right there on the edge of the table and lie down.”

 

The table is wooden, cool and smooth, and she shivered a little. She looked up and back, trying to see what he’s doing, but she can’t see well enough to figure out what he’s up to.

 

“Now try not to move,”

 

He instructs. He reaches over her, placing something cool right between her breasts. She glances down to see what it is.

 

A couple of banana slices.

 

“You’re going to use me as a plate? Kinky,”

 

She laughed.

 

“You could say that,”

 

Hannibal says agreeably, piling more bananas over the first pile.

 

“More fun to wash, afterwards,”

 

He added, licking his lips suggestively. Reaching back again, he procured a can of whipped cream. He proceeded to squirt a generous amount over the pile of fruit, and then, smirking wickedly, dressed each nipple in a little peak of sweet cream.

 

Alana couldn't stop giggling. It’s silly and arousing at the same time. For a moment she wondered if he had hit his head during the kill. Hannibal Lecter was a lot of things but acting like a horny teenager was not one of the things he was good at.

 

Another bottle appearing in Hannibal’s hand, he drizzled chocolate syrup over all three piles of cream.

 

“And now, mademoiselle, we finish the dessert with a cherry.”

 

Hannibal finally said with a flourish, in a perfect French accent. True to his word, three maraschino cherries soon adorn his three creations. He climbed up on the table straddling her torso Hannibal started eating the fruit and cream piled between her breasts.

 

It’s more funny than arousing, although it’s kind of fun when Hannibal leans up to kiss her and he’s got a mouthful of whipped cream and chocolate to share with her. Or when he offers her a few slices of banana...with his mouth.

 

But then the fruit is gone, and he’s licking her bare skin, raising goose bumps.

“Mmmm, that feels good, honey,”

 

She purred.

 

“And this is only the beginning, baby,”

 

He said. To illustrate his statement, he devoured the cherry capping her left nipple, and then proceeded to suck all the cream into his hungry mouth. When the cream is all gone, he starts sucking on her instead, and Alana arches her back, pressing herself upwards into his insistent mouth. She wanted to clutch at his shoulders, but remembers at the last moment the fresh bandages, so she settles for gripping onto his biceps instead, enjoying the flex and shift of toned muscle under her fingers.

 

He cleaned her off again with broad strokes of his tongue, and then he’s licking the cream off her other nipple. He shares the mouthful with her, ending the exchange by exploring her mouth with a leisurely tongue.

 

Just as Alana was ready to beg him to take her he pulled back with a glint in his eye that would make the devil himself ask for tips.

 

Then he grabbed the fruit and the bottles and climbed carefully off the table. Alana bit her lip unsurprised at all when he hooked a chair over with his ankle and sits down on it. Right between her legs.

 

She sat up on her elbows, looking down at him.

 

“Still hungry, are we?”

“Well, Can’t have a banana split without the…ummm…split,”

 

He says, eyeing her exposed sex causing her to gasp and then laugh at his crudeness.

 

"You put the 'rude' in 'crude' Dr. Lecter"

“But oh, so accurate,”

 

He pointed out, starting to place the fruit. She gasped as something brushed against her clit, her hips jerking.

 

“Hey, stop that!”

 

Hannibal complained

 

“You’re wrecking the placement of my banana!”

 

Alana managed to restrain a rather crude remark of her own about Hannibal’s ‘banana’, trying instead to hold still while he piled the fruit on. He’d get down to business faster if she just accommodates him. Next is the cream, cool and soft. The chocolate syrup, which she can feel him drizzling everywhere and finally he dropped a few cherries onto his ‘dessert’.

 

“Voila!”

 

Hannibal said, smirking and sitting back to admire his creation. Alana rolls her eyes once more. She’s getting very impatient to feel that talented tongue inside her.

 

“Less talking, more eating,”

 

Hannibal’s not done teasing her, though.

 

“Plate presentation is very important,”

 

He explains, being completely serious as he sat in front of her.

 

“I am never watching cooking shows with you again,”

 

She growled at him, trying not to squirm.

 

“Awe, baby,”

 

Hannibal mock-whined.

 

“But then I’d get less inspiration to do things like this-“

 

Just like that, his tongue landed on her, lapping greedily. Alternately consuming whipped cream, and consuming her cream, of which she has collected quite a bit, after the earlier teasing.

 

He still took his time, holding her hips down. He lapped up chocolate and cherries and cream, and then runs his tongue along her folds, searching for any stray sweetness. He nibbles on banana slices, then brushes careful teeth against her skin, oh so gently nipping.

 

“Oh God, Hannibal,”

 

Alana moaned, her hands reaching down and curling over his.

 

“Mmmm, tastes so good.”

 

He said softly. One of his hands slips out of her grip, sliding down, down. Two fingers find the entrance to her body, tracing gently around the opening for a few moments while he devours the last of the cream and chocolate spread over her clit, and then he sinks into her. All while starting to suck on her, tongue playing with only the very tip of her sensitive little organ.

 

It feels just too good; it’s been weeks since she’s had Hannibal here to satisfy the itch between her legs. He had been too busy convincing Will he's insane and she only had herself to play with.

 

So she now just goes with it, gives in to it, allowing the orgasm to crest and wash over her, groaning and quivering and calling out Hannibal’s name.

 

He slides his fingers out of her, popping them immediately into his mouth.

 

“Still hungry?”

 

She asks, panting and smiling down at him. He’s got whipped cream smeared on his chin, his nose.

 

“Baby, you have no idea,”

 

He throws a meaningful glance in the direction of the bedroom.

 

“Well, then I guess we’d better feed you some more,”

 

Alana says with a smirk of her own. She sits up, wrapping her hands around the back of his head and pulling his face close, licking the whipped cream – and her own ‘version’, too – off. When she’s done, she kisses him, their tongues fighting a brief, friendly battle.

 

“Take me to bed, Hannibal Lecter”

 

She says huskily when they move apart.

 

“Gladly,”

 

He says, and lifts her effortlessly off the table. She wraps her legs around his hips and her arms – carefully – around his shoulders, and lets him carry her into the bedroom. He pauses at the door so she can hit the light switch, and then moves to deposit her gently on the bed.

 

Alana unzips his jeans and reaches in, her fingers finding him rampant and ready. She leans forward, fully prepared to do a little ‘taste testing’ of her own.

 

“No,”

 

He growled, surprising her.

 

“Forgive me for being blunt, Alana, but I have to fuck you. Right now.”

 

Fine by her. She smiles up at him and lies back on the bed, spreading her thighs wide in wordless invitation.

 

Hannibal gulps almost visibly, and then practically rips his pants and briefs getting them off; before he joined her on the bed, cupping his hands under her buttocks, and she reached down to guide him inside.

 

The friction, the warmth, the sensation of him stretching her is exquisite. He’s slow at first, but not for long, moving in quick thrusts inside of her. She urged him on with little cries and gasps of pleasure, watching his face as he gave in and released all the tension, pulsing sensuously inside her body.

 

He slumps over, holding himself up with one hand, watching with great interest as Alana finishes what he started, getting herself off with a few quick rubs against her clit. He’s still inside her, still hard, when she comes, and she watches him close his eyes, knowing he’s savoring the sensation of her climaxing around him, as much as she enjoys feeling him inside her as she goes over the edge...

 

Alana's eyes popped open as she felt something move next to her. The first thing she saw was a cream ceiling and when she looked around her she saw Hannibal, sleeping peacefully. For a moment she pieced together the events that led them to this bed separating dreams from reality.

 

Dream: Hannibal knowing she knows about his hobby and coming home to her.

Reality: Hannibal finally giving her the opening she's always wanted to be with him. She smiled and watched his eyes open, lazy smile on his face.

 

"You're awake"

 

She tells him with a sated smile on her lips

 

"So are you"

 

His smile is almost identical to hers. A sign of times to come. Alana, needing one last bit of reassurance drove into a speech she had thought off before about funeral sex and the desire it gave people to have sex. As if on script, Hannibal reassured her that they have more reasons to sleep together than simply funeral ones. Alana smiled at him and grinned as his nose rubbed hers.

 

"You have no idea Hannibal. None at all"

 

She thought. None. At. All.

 

##  The end

 

##  Just a snack

 

~*~

 

It must’ve been a difficult one this time, Alana realizes, when she opens the door and sees Hannibal standing there with bloody claw-marks across his forehead and bloodstains all over his clothes.

 

“Oh God, Hannibal,”

 

She says as she takes his arm and draws him into her house, before anyone can see him. A good looking, bloodied man, dressed in a plastic onesie looking disturbingly like a life size condom, knocking at her door will surely get her gossipy neighbors in a tizzy.

 

He lets her lead him into the kitchen.

 

“I’ll live,”

 

He says, his tone flat and lifeless, and that increases Alana’s unease. He’s usually fairly happy after a kill, smug and pleased with his success, holding up his medical box full of meat, no matter how difficult it may prove to be. If he’s this down and with no red medical box, it must mean the meal got away. After taking a good look at him.

 

“Hannibal? What happened?”

 

She pushes him gently into a chair, and puts a hand on his cheek.

 

“I killed him.”

 

He says causing her to let out a breath, dull maroon eyes looking up into hers.

 

“Two people actually. But not before they killed a four-year old boy they were raping”

 

Alana barely held back a gasp. He’d probably stop talking if she said anything though, so she just leaned in to hug him, and waited until he continued.

 

“Two well respected medical officers and they were screwing that boy as if it was an Olympic sport"

 

Hannibal finally continued in that same remote voice his accent thicker that ever and full of emotion.

 

"I killed them fast when I saw the boy was covered in blood but..."

 

When he said nothing more, Alana squeezed him a bit tighter. The absence of meat now making sense.

 

“It’s not your fault. You did your best”

 

She reminded him. She searches for a way to ease his guilt and pain.

 

“It happens sometimes. You can’t save them all"

 

She whispered knowing she was serving him platitudes he had heard before. Hannibal closes his eyes and shakes his head. Alana closed her eyes looking for the right words.

 

"Did you avenge the boy?"

 

Hannibal brought himself back from the darkness inside him to respond to her with a smile that would send normal people running away screaming

 

"They look as if wild dogs chewed and spat them out"

“Good,”

 

She said in a tone that bellied she wasn't one of those people.

 

“Now stop beating yourself up – the cover-up already did a marvelous job of that – and let’s get the suit and your shirt off.”

 

That earned her a ghost of a smirk from him. Progress.

 

“Yes, doctor,”

 

He obeyed and stripped to his waist. Alana carefully examined each of his wounds. Other than the forehead scratches, which are messy but not all that deep, there’s lots of bruises and abrasions on his arms and chest, and several cuts on his left shoulder. Two or three of those are deep enough to require stitches and applied them quickly, enjoying taking care of him after a kill.

 

“Careful, Lana. Try not to spoil my good looks”

 

Hannibal joked. He was obviously feeling better, and that made her feel better, too. She snorted and made quick work of cleaning up.

 

“Next you’ll be complaining that you ‘broke a nail’ on a kill”

 

She commented with mock disdain.

 

“Why, you little-“

 

Hannibal could move so fast when he wanted to. In seconds, she found herself seated on the kitchen table, and Hannibal was kissing her enthusiastically. Alana knew that this orgasm would be in silent mourning for the little boy. The rest would be for them.

 

Hannibal kissed her deep and hard, tongue slipping all over. She dug her nails lightly into his bare back, shivering with pleasure. She loved it when he got passionate and forceful like this.

 

He broke the kiss and pressed that sinful mouth to her throat, right on her pulse point.

 

“I’m all man, baby. Trust me,”

 

He growled, the words muffled against her throat. Grinning, she reaches down and cups him through the ridiculous clear suit.

 

“I never had any doubts, Hannibal,”

 

She laughed squeezing him gently. He groans and shoves his hips violently forward into her hand, the warm bulge filling her palm, and then moves his mouth to her collarbone, lightly biting.

 

That’s when his stomach gurgles loud enough that they break apart, Alana giggling and Hannibal huffing in annoyance.

 

“I'm sorry my dear"

 

He apologized for being hungry but didn't ask permission before he started rummaging through her fridge. Alana shook her head amused at him. Sometimes her cannibal could be extremely adorable.

 

She was busy admiring the smooth, muscled planes of his back and the tight curve of his ass in his dress pants and jumped as he spoke without looking at her.

 

“Take your clothes off.”

“What? Here?”

“Mhm”

 

Alana bit her lip for a moment regretting the large windows of her kitchen but was intrigued enough to start unbuttoning her shirt. Sex with Hannibal was too good to pass up and she's always up for adding another naughty sex-game to their repertoire.

 

“Everything”

 

He told her the moment her bra joined her shirt on a chair. He still hadn't turned around, nor had he looked up at her reflexion in the glass yet he knew when she had followed his direction.

 

“And turn around”

 

Alana bit her lip again but turned around and shed the rest of her clothes, listening to the sounds Hannibal’s making. It sounded like he was chopping something up on the cutting board. There were also a few other noises. Clunks, like bottles being moved and put down. What was he up to?

 

“Good,”

 

He says from behind her. More noise as he puts whatever he’s carrying on the other end of the table.

 

“Now, sit right there on the edge of the table and lie down.”

 

The table is wooden, cool and smooth, and she shivered a little. She looked up and back, trying to see what he’s doing, but she can’t see well enough to figure out what he’s up to.

 

“Now try not to move,”

 

He instructs. He reaches over her, placing something cool right between her breasts. She glances down to see what it is.

 

A couple of banana slices.

 

“You’re going to use me as a plate? Kinky,”

 

She laughed.

 

“You could say that,”

 

Hannibal says agreeably, piling more bananas over the first pile.

 

“More fun to wash, afterwards,”

 

He added, licking his lips suggestively. Reaching back again, he procured a can of whipped cream. He proceeded to squirt a generous amount over the pile of fruit, and then, smirking wickedly, dressed each nipple in a little peak of sweet cream.

 

Alana couldn't stop giggling. It’s silly and arousing at the same time. For a moment she wondered if he had hit his head during the kill. Hannibal Lecter was a lot of things but acting like a horny teenager was not one of the things he was good at.

 

Another bottle appearing in Hannibal’s hand, he drizzled chocolate syrup over all three piles of cream.

 

“And now, mademoiselle, we finish the dessert with a cherry.”

 

Hannibal finally said with a flourish, in a perfect French accent. True to his word, three maraschino cherries soon adorn his three creations. He climbed up on the table straddling her torso Hannibal started eating the fruit and cream piled between her breasts.

 

It’s more funny than arousing, although it’s kind of fun when Hannibal leans up to kiss her and he’s got a mouthful of whipped cream and chocolate to share with her. Or when he offers her a few slices of banana...with his mouth.

 

But then the fruit is gone, and he’s licking her bare skin, raising goose bumps.

“Mmmm, that feels good, honey,”

 

She purred.

 

“And this is only the beginning, baby,”

 

He said. To illustrate his statement, he devoured the cherry capping her left nipple, and then proceeded to suck all the cream into his hungry mouth. When the cream is all gone, he starts sucking on her instead, and Alana arches her back, pressing herself upwards into his insistent mouth. She wanted to clutch at his shoulders, but remembers at the last moment the fresh bandages, so she settles for gripping onto his biceps instead, enjoying the flex and shift of toned muscle under her fingers.

 

He cleaned her off again with broad strokes of his tongue, and then he’s licking the cream off her other nipple. He shares the mouthful with her, ending the exchange by exploring her mouth with a leisurely tongue.

 

Just as Alana was ready to beg him to take her he pulled back with a glint in his eye that would make the devil himself ask for tips.

 

Then he grabbed the fruit and the bottles and climbed carefully off the table. Alana bit her lip unsurprised at all when he hooked a chair over with his ankle and sits down on it. Right between her legs.

 

She sat up on her elbows, looking down at him.

 

“Still hungry, are we?”

“Well, Can’t have a banana split without the…ummm…split,”

 

He says, eyeing her exposed sex causing her to gasp and then laugh at his crudeness.

 

"You put the 'rude' in 'crude' Dr. Lecter"

“But oh, so accurate,”

 

He pointed out, starting to place the fruit. She gasped as something brushed against her clit, her hips jerking.

 

“Hey, stop that!”

 

Hannibal complained

 

“You’re wrecking the placement of my banana!”

 

Alana managed to restrain a rather crude remark of her own about Hannibal’s ‘banana’, trying instead to hold still while he piled the fruit on. He’d get down to business faster if she just accommodates him. Next is the cream, cool and soft. The chocolate syrup, which she can feel him drizzling everywhere and finally he dropped a few cherries onto his ‘dessert’.

 

“Voila!”

 

Hannibal said, smirking and sitting back to admire his creation. Alana rolls her eyes once more. She’s getting very impatient to feel that talented tongue inside her.

 

“Less talking, more eating,”

 

Hannibal’s not done teasing her, though.

 

“Plate presentation is very important,”

 

He explains, being completely serious as he sat in front of her.

 

“I am never watching cooking shows with you again,”

 

She growled at him, trying not to squirm.

 

“Awe, baby,”

 

Hannibal mock-whined.

 

“But then I’d get less inspiration to do things like this-“

 

Just like that, his tongue landed on her, lapping greedily. Alternately consuming whipped cream, and consuming her cream, of which she has collected quite a bit, after the earlier teasing.

 

He still took his time, holding her hips down. He lapped up chocolate and cherries and cream, and then runs his tongue along her folds, searching for any stray sweetness. He nibbles on banana slices, then brushes careful teeth against her skin, oh so gently nipping.

 

“Oh God, Hannibal,”

 

Alana moaned, her hands reaching down and curling over his.

 

“Mmmm, tastes so good.”

 

He said softly. One of his hands slips out of her grip, sliding down, down. Two fingers find the entrance to her body, tracing gently around the opening for a few moments while he devours the last of the cream and chocolate spread over her clit, and then he sinks into her. All while starting to suck on her, tongue playing with only the very tip of her sensitive little organ.

 

It feels just too good; it’s been weeks since she’s had Hannibal here to satisfy the itch between her legs. He had been too busy convincing Will he's insane and she only had herself to play with.

 

So she now just goes with it, gives in to it, allowing the orgasm to crest and wash over her, groaning and quivering and calling out Hannibal’s name.

 

He slides his fingers out of her, popping them immediately into his mouth.

 

“Still hungry?”

 

She asks, panting and smiling down at him. He’s got whipped cream smeared on his chin, his nose.

 

“Baby, you have no idea,”

 

He throws a meaningful glance in the direction of the bedroom.

 

“Well, then I guess we’d better feed you some more,”

 

Alana says with a smirk of her own. She sits up, wrapping her hands around the back of his head and pulling his face close, licking the whipped cream – and her own ‘version’, too – off. When she’s done, she kisses him, their tongues fighting a brief, friendly battle.

 

“Take me to bed, Hannibal Lecter”

 

She says huskily when they move apart.

 

“Gladly,”

 

He says, and lifts her effortlessly off the table. She wraps her legs around his hips and her arms – carefully – around his shoulders, and lets him carry her into the bedroom. He pauses at the door so she can hit the light switch, and then moves to deposit her gently on the bed.

 

Alana unzips his jeans and reaches in, her fingers finding him rampant and ready. She leans forward, fully prepared to do a little ‘taste testing’ of her own.

 

“No,”

 

He growled, surprising her.

 

“Forgive me for being blunt, Alana, but I have to fuck you. Right now.”

 

Fine by her. She smiles up at him and lies back on the bed, spreading her thighs wide in wordless invitation.

 

Hannibal gulps almost visibly, and then practically rips his pants and briefs getting them off; before he joined her on the bed, cupping his hands under her buttocks, and she reached down to guide him inside.

 

The friction, the warmth, the sensation of him stretching her is exquisite. He’s slow at first, but not for long, moving in quick thrusts inside of her. She urged him on with little cries and gasps of pleasure, watching his face as he gave in and released all the tension, pulsing sensuously inside her body.

 

He slumps over, holding himself up with one hand, watching with great interest as Alana finishes what he started, getting herself off with a few quick rubs against her clit. He’s still inside her, still hard, when she comes, and she watches him close his eyes, knowing he’s savoring the sensation of her climaxing around him, as much as she enjoys feeling him inside her as she goes over the edge...

 

Alana's eyes popped open as she felt something move next to her. The first thing she saw was a cream ceiling and when she looked around her she saw Hannibal, sleeping peacefully. For a moment she pieced together the events that led them to this bed separating dreams from reality.

 

Dream: Hannibal knowing she knows about his hobby and coming home to her.

Reality: Hannibal finally giving her the opening she's always wanted to be with him. She smiled and watched his eyes open, lazy smile on his face.

 

"You're awake"

 

She tells him with a sated smile on her lips

 

"So are you"

 

His smile is almost identical to hers. A sign of times to come. Alana, needing one last bit of reassurance drove into a speech she had thought off before about funeral sex and the desire it gave people to have sex. As if on script, Hannibal reassured her that they have more reasons to sleep together than simply funeral ones. Alana smiled at him and grinned as his nose rubbed hers.

 

"You have no idea Hannibal. None at all"

 

She thought. None. At. All.

 

##  The end

 

 

 


End file.
